


both wrists

by PikaCheeka



Category: DRAMAtical Murder (Visual Novel)
Genre: M/M, dubcon, excessive dirty talk, rape fantasies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-04 04:54:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10268732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PikaCheeka/pseuds/PikaCheeka
Summary: Trip accidentally admits to Virus that he harbors rape fantasies about him. The reaction is not what he expects, but he figures he might as well take it as far as he can.





	

**Author's Note:**

> ViTri just being gross on the couch and/or ViTri hyping each other with filthy talk are some favorite topics of mine, so apologies any aspects of this seem familiar to some of you. I just wanted to add another light fic to the mix after that immense serious one I just wrote for them. This one is supposed to be pretty uncomfortable/embarrassing. As always, thank you for reading, and I'm open for suggestions/requests for ViTri fic!

His fantasies are exquisite, myriad and horrifying in the complexity of their depravity. They’ve carried him through years of silence, ages of an unwillingness and an incapacity to give voice to them, ever since he first became aware of himself in such a way that meant he was now aware of Virus as more than just a warm body on the cot next to him and a nice face across the table in the cafeteria. _A pretty white hum._ There are a thousand ways he wants to fuck him, be fucked by him, and Virus knows none of it. Virus who sits on the couch beside him, thighs touching every time he rearranges himself or reaches for his beer, so close Trip could easily put an arm around him, while they watch another strange drama about relationships and family that, like so many before it, is proving to be remarkably inexplicable. He sometimes thinks they watch too many movies, spend too many nights on the couch together after going out to dinner, act too often like they’re a couple when they’re anything but. Virus chats, as he often does through movies, a pleasant drone about anything and everything that comes to mind, and Trip hears none of it, as he rarely does. Instead he thinks about throwing him onto the floor, climbing on top of him and prizing his legs open, biting and kissing him as he rips his pants down. He wants to make him _scream_.

He doesn’t know what makes him lean over then, that night of all nights, press his mouth to the older man’s ear and say his name.

“Hm?” he replies sleepily, the sound heavy with contentment. He always seems in a stupor after a shower, slowed and placid.

“I want to…” he stops abruptly, ignores the hitch in his own breath. “I’m thinking about fucking you right now.”

If Virus is surprised, he doesn’t show it. “How would you do it?” is all he says as he takes another sip of his beer, tilting the can slowly to the side in such a way that the bubbles echo.

It’s not the reply he expects, but even as the word catches in his throat and threatens to choke him, he manages a quiet, “ _Hard_.”

“You have to do better than that. Come on, details.” There is a softness in his voice, a gentleness at once chiding and encouraging. He isn’t mad or disgusted, or even confused. It’s as if he’d been waiting for this.

So Trip doesn’t know what to do but tell him. “I’d take you by surprise. When you’re not expecting it. Just…throw you on the floor. Hold your wrists over your head—“

“In one hand or two?” Virus interjects calmly, and Trip struggles to ignore the huskiness of his voice.

“One, I guess. Use my other hand to touch you.”

“Mmm yea, your hands are a lot bigger than mine. You could hold both wrists down like that.” He doesn’t look at his hand as he speaks, and Trip suspects he’s thought about this before.

“Rip your shirt up, bite your nipples and collarbone and neck, slide my hand down your belly and over your…uhm…” he’s not sure how to go on, because talking about Virus’ nether-regions like that is uncharted territory. “Guess I’d rub you over your pants first.”

“I like it rough,” Virus says suddenly, and Trip feels his dick twitch. 

“Huh?”

“Well, with you, I think…I’d like it if you hurt me a little.” He shifts his weight as he says it, drops a hand to the waist of his pants, those low-slung exercise pants he wears when lounging around the house that show far too much of his hips and belly, reveal that he doesn’t usually wear underwear with them, when he moves a certain way.

“Just with me?” Trip asks before he can stop himself. He’d heard rumors of Virus’ sexual habits over the years, but never _that_. It’s too much to comprehend.

“Probably. I dream about it sometimes. Think about it when I wake up,” he smiles then, that cruel twitch of his lips, and Trip is unsure or what game is being played here, but he trusts Virus enough not to care, _because Virus dreams about him_. Not that that matters much, he tells himself, because nightmares exist and they certainly aren’t a rarity for either of them, just one more thing that binds them together that they are unwilling to discuss.

“Then I’d be rough. Better that way anyway.”

“I agree,” and Virus exhales softly, shoves his hand below the waistband of his sweatpants now. “Go on then.”

Trip doesn’t respond immediately, his gaze locked on the several centimeters of stomach now showing, the pubic trail faintly visible, blonde and light as it is. He needs to distract himself, and the first thing that comes to mind is to _bite_ ; he takes Virus’ right earring between his teeth and tugs gently. He’s bitten him before, usually just to wake him up or get his attention or annoy him, but never when Virus was touching himself, and he grins when the older man makes a soft noise, a hum of satisfaction. He’s not sure if he’s surprised or not, and then he _remembers_. Remembers the night nearly a year ago now, when he’d borrowed Virus’ computer and glanced at the browser history, merely out of boredom. He’d discovered that his work partner spent a lot of time reading about what it meant to have rape fantasies where one was the victim. It had seemed odd at the time, but he knew Virus’ history, knew what had happened to him as a child, knew what he did at night when he’d disappear at 11 PM, and so he’d written it off as being a byproduct of that. Strange, yes, but not anything to do with him. He hadn’t put it together then. _I dream about it sometimes._ That Virus had those fantasies about _him_.

“I’d put my fingers in you then,” he finally says, a hiss in Virus’ ear because he doesn’t dare speak aloud.

Virus only leans back, into him, angling his body into Trip’s shoulder in such a way that begs intimacy. “I like it up the ass.”

“Obviously.”

He laughs then, a soft exhalation that Trip feels in the base of his spine, as he begins moving his left hand, slides his right one over that expanse of belly that Trip wants nothing more than to lick.

“Finger yourself, too,” he mutters, closing his eyes for a moment to prevent himself from saying too much, from asking if he can do it himself. He instead presses his face into Virus’ neck and inhales deeply, reveling in the way he trembles. “I’d shove two fingers up your ass right away bite your neck at the same time. Right. _Here_. Or maybe your nipples. I heard you got sensitive tits, eh. Whatever. I bet I could make you leak just from that, without even touching your dick yet.”

And then Virus is pressing back against him, bumping him with his elbow until Trip feels compelled to grab his arm. “You’re getting really chatty now. How much did you drink?”

“Sorry,” he says quickly, but he feels hot, dizzy with need, and he catches himself massaging Virus’ arm, desperate for more contact.

“I like it. I’d grind my hips down on you, desperate for your cock.” He licks his lips then, tilts his head towards Trip for still more contact, and his skin is warm and soft and pliant still, as he’d only gotten out of the shower half an hour ago. “Weird, to talk about your dick like that. Your _penis_. You’re bigger than me, hm? Twenty centimeters? More? And I know you’re thicker than me. Like—“

“ _Virus_ ,” he digs his nails into his arm as he lets out a strangled hiss. “Too soon. I’m gonna come right now.”

“Is that what we’re doing?” But he laughs, and there is still no hardness there, no cruelty. It’s the laugh he reserves only for Trip, though now it carries with it something more. _Arousal_. “Okay, okay. When we get there. I wouldn’t beg. I always cry in my dreams about it, so maybe I’d do that. I don’t know. It’s kind of embarrassing.”

_When we get there._ But the thought of Virus crying is too much to ignore. “That’d be cute, seeing you so vulnerable. Like…prey.” And he nips at his throat, daring himself to go further, because Virus’ gasp makes him all the more aware of his own erection.

And then Virus is slipping his second hand inside his pants. “Should I take them off? Pull them down, at least? Do you want to see, or…?” The question hangs between them, his intent a temptation so clear and vibrant that it takes everything in Trip’s power to ignore.

For a moment he can’t breathe. “No, I might…do something.”

“Thought you might say that.” His breath hitches then, but his hands stay hidden. “Uhm. I don’t have lube with me but I’m already dripping a little. One finger or two?”

“Two. Like I would right away.” He hesitates, squeezes Virus’ arm again, lets his hand slide down until he’s just above his wrist. He’s cursing the bagginess of his pants now, of how he can’t _see_. “Should I get you some?” But he knows that nothing can make him get up in that moment.

“Stay here.” It’s a command they both know will be obeyed, and Trip feels the muscles in his arm shift as Virus suddenly gasps, bites his lower lip and narrows his eyes. _Two_.

“Good. I’d do three fingers then, scissor and scratch your insides, stretch your hole so I can ram you. I’d hurt you a little, make you make the face you’re. Making. Right. _Now_.” He bites the last words off, unsure if he should touch himself as he stares, because Virus is blushing now, clearly uncomfortable.

“Three’s too much now. Give me a minute.”

“Okay.” He doesn’t know what else to say. It’s too strange a situation, even for them, for him to even begin to guess what he ought to do. So he merely sits, pressing his legs together and trying to ignore his erection.

“I like you looking at me,” he stops to grunt, bite his lip again as he leans forward. “Next time I jerk off and you’re home you can come watch.”

“Would you take your pants off next time? Or at least let me see your dick…how can that be comfortable in there…”

“Mm, you told me not to. Come on, what’ll you do next? I want to know.” And he does, his pupils dilated and his eyes gleaming as he lolls his head against his shoulder. He sighs softly, a low keening that could be a whine, a _whimper_ , as the muscles in his arm tighten up again when he pushes a third finger in, and that sound is what pushes Trip over the edge.

He tells him everything, a low whisper in his ear as he runs his fingers up and down his arm, the touch uncomfortably gentle, delicate, at odds with what he says. “Then I’d fuck you. Like a girl, missionary position, because I wanna see your face when I do it. Keep holding your wrists with one hand for another second and push one knee up to your chest. Then I’d let your hands go, when I had my shoulder holding your leg there so you can’t get away easy, and I’d—”

“You thought it through that much?”

“Ya,” but for the first time that night he doesn’t feel at a loss for words, and he almost ignores the interruption as he continues, though he feels the tremor take root in Virus’ body now. He’s torn between closing his eyes against the pressure building behind his eyelids and not even daring to blink lest he miss a millisecond of Virus’ distress. Because he’s clearly distressed now, approaching climax, all the while writhing from the fingers he’d forced inside of himself without preparation. “Then I’d push your other leg up, spread your ass and shove my dick into you. You’d be stretched out, so I could do it fast. Make you scream. Uhm, then I’d just ram you until I got every noise outta you. Fuck you hard and fast and grind down slow now and then, hold you down against the floor. You’d be so hot inside, wet and soft like a girl. I’d jerk you off a little but not too much, ‘cause I’d want to make you come from me inside you most. And you’d squirm and shudder and cry, like you said, but I’d make you beg too, mebbe because I’d be so rough like you _like_ it, fucking _slut_. I’d watch your face the whole time, not let you hide. Watch you blush and cry and whimper. Bet you’d come first, clench around my dick while I kept ramming you when you’re all sensitive and bothered. I’d come in you. I mark you. You’re _mine_ ,” the last words are barely more than a growl as he forgets for a moment, forgets this isn’t happening, forgets it’s nothing but a fantasy, because he can smell Virus’ sex now, feel him as he climaxes hard, arches his back violently and jerks his hips several times, hear him as he lets out a soft cry that he can’t smother fast enough.

Virus collapses forward then, body convulsing in the afterglow, pulling his fingers from and off of himself with a shudder. Breathless, face flushed and eyelashes sticking together with what might be sweat, might be tears, hair in his face and glasses fogged up, Trip is reminded all over again how attractive he is when _vulnerable_. His next actions are purely instinctual, driven by a force he doesn’t even register, much less think about; he pulls Virus into his lap, one arm a vice around his waist as he grinds up against his ass and catches the other man’s hand in his own. He inhales him, finally tasting him as he bites his way down his neck and leaves sucking kisses over his throat before forcing his hand to his face, running his tongue over those come-slicked fingers.

“What are you doing, huh?” he’s laughing again, breathless, nervous, a hint of fear creeping into his voice as he feels the younger man’s weight shift, and then, “Trip… _Trip_!”

He forces him down onto the couch face-first as he rolls onto his back, driven by that momentary crack in the façade he’d seen, that _fear_ that broke through, as he thrusts against him several times in quick succession, ends with a slow grind against his ass that brings sparks to his vision and a violence of pleasure shooting through every nerve in his body. He wonders if Virus can feel it in his fingertips, if he’s burned where Trip clutches his wrist and spreads fingers over his belly, and that’s the last clear thought he has. He doesn’t know how long he lies like that, hunched over Virus, pushing the older man’s ass up against him as he nuzzles the back of his neck and gasps for air.

Virus is the one to break the silence, his voice soft and incredulous. “Did you just come from that?”

“Maybe.” He sits up quickly, unsure if he should be embarrassed or not.

“Without even touching yourself…” Virus laughs yet again that night as he sits up and leans into him all over again, fingers grasping for his waistband as if he weren’t afraid only seconds ago, “Let me see. You’re all wet there.”

Trip catches his hand in his, crushes the fingers that only moments ago he’d licked clean before sliding up to clutch his wrist. _Don’t touch me right now, I can’t stand it, can’t control myself if you do that._ But he doesn’t say it. He feels Virus’ pulse beneath his index finger and breathes heavily through his nose, struggling to process what just happened.

Until Virus speaks again, his voice soft and gentle. Encouraging. Seductive. His eyes are lowered, but there is a sultry guardedness in the way he tilts his head, the way he lifts his free hand and curls his fingers. “You really _could_ hold both my wrists in one hand, you know…”

 

 

 


End file.
